Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Then, one night, I lost control and texted her that I missed her. I asked her not to respond. She didn’t, and it made me feel worse. I’d vowed never to repeat that mistake.
My life had gone back to exactly what it was before I moved to Boston: smoking, drinking and fucking girls I didn’t care about. It was empty. The only difference from before was that now, somewhere deep beneath the filth was this longing for more…for her. She’d given me a taste of the type of human connection my life had been missing all along.
I expected the gnawing feeling in my chest to go away over time, but it never did; it only intensified. I think that was because deep down, I also sensed that wherever she was, Greta was thinking of me, feeling the same way. I somehow felt it, and it ate away at me for years.
***
Two years later, Mami’s mental state had finally improved after she met a guy. He was her first boyfriend since Randy left her. George was Lebanese and owned the convenience store down the street from us. He was over the house all of the time and would always bring pita bread, hummus and olives. For the first time ever, her obsession with Randy seemed to have waned.
George was a great guy, but the happier she was with him, the more bitter I became. I’d given up the one girl I ever cared about because I thought it would devastate my mother beyond repair. Now, she was happy, and I was still miserable. And Greta was gone.
I’d felt like I made the biggest mistake of my life.
I needed to talk to someone about it because my anger was eating away at me day by day. I had never mentioned what happened with Greta to a single soul. The only person I could trust was Randy’s friend, Greg, who’d become like a second father to me.
He gave me some inside information that day during our phone call: Greta had apparently recently moved to New York. He even had her address from their Christmas card list. Greg tried to convince me to fly out there and tell her how I felt. I didn’t think she would want to see me even if she still cared about me. I hurt her so badly that I didn’t understand how she could ever forgive me. Greg felt that going to see her in person would make a bigger impression. Despite my fears, I booked a ticket the next day, which happened to be New Years Eve.
I told Mami I was going to visit a friend I’d met years ago to celebrate the holiday in the city. I wouldn’t tell her about Greta unless this worked out.
The six-hour plane ride was the most nerve-wracking experience of my life. I just wanted to get there. I just wanted to hold her again. I didn’t know what I’d say or what I was going to do when I laid eyes on her. I didn’t know if she was even with someone. I was going in blind.
This was the first time in my life that I ever put myself first and followed my heart.
I hoped it wasn’t too late because I really wanted the opportunity to tell her all of the things I should have told her three years ago. She never even knew I loved her the night she’d given me her virginity.
If the plane ride took an eternity, the subway ride to her apartment complex seemed even more frustratingly long. As the train swayed, every single memory of her flashed through my head like a movie. I couldn’t help but smile as I thought about some of the shit I pulled on her and what a good sport she was. She made me happy. Mostly, my mind drifted to that final night when she’d given me full ownership of her body. The train stopped; there was a slight delay. Getting to her soon felt urgent now.
I needed to get to her.
When I finally made it to her building, I double-checked the address I’d jotted down on a small piece of paper. Her last name, Hansen, was written in pen next to apartment 7b on the listing inside the main entrance.
There was no answer. I nixed the idea of calling or texting her because I worried she’d say she didn’t want to meet with me before I had a chance to see her. I came all the way here. I needed to at least see her face.
The restaurant downstairs served as the perfect waiting spot before trying her door again in another hour.
I knocked on that door every hour on the hour from four in the afternoon until nine at night. Each time, there was no answer, and I’d just go back to Charlie’s Pub and wait.